


Five Kisses for Rosie Cotton

by orphan_account



Category: Lord of the Rings - Tolkien
Genre: 100-1000 Words, F/F, F/M, Ficlet, First Kiss, Hobbits, Kissing, five things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-06
Updated: 2008-04-06
Packaged: 2017-10-08 01:37:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kisses of particular significance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Kisses for Rosie Cotton

_One._ On the tips of Rosie's lips, the curve of her upper lip, the middle roundness of her lower one, was hidden her first special kiss. It grew there somewhere between her seventh and thirteenth year, and was collected by Emmie Longhollow one wedding night (under the stage, the band stomping one two three to the first dance), justified under the name of 'practice', and won for the pretty ribbons in Emmie's hair, for the way her eyebrows arched towards her nose, making her look like she knew all the secrets of the world.

_Two._ The second special kiss formed on a May night when Rosie was twelve, left there by a vivid dream as if laid down by ghostly lips. Rosie woke with a certainty that there was a kiss on her cheek, high up, almost right below her left eye, and that it belonged to someone she'd never met, who would come collect it some future day. It was carried on a moonbeam, and taken away again by a star; a thank-you and a promise from the queen, as Rosie unclutched her daughter, and Elanor slipped away from her, already half-way gone to the kingdom of the east.

_Three._ On the hollow of her neck lay a kiss that came and went in an instant – a knot of sensation carried on Sam's lips, that made her quiver and flush hot, like fear – no – like courage, exhiliration, starburst.

_Four._ On a breath between her lips, in the deeper, moister expanses of her mouth, lay her wedding kiss; Sam collected it, as no-one else ever could have, on May Day in 1421.

_Five._ One kiss remains, on the inside of her wrist, above the pulse. Sometimes it burns her in the night, on slow afternoons when it's too hot to work or too quiet to think. It's where she rested her wrist against Mr Frodo's, their fingers intertwined, as her voice murmured old stories into the gloom of the bedroom, and he breathed heavy and halting in his sudden sickness.


End file.
